Legacy
by theshutintwodoorsdown
Summary: This takes place roughly twenty years after the end of Inheritance. It is a continuation of the political and cultural turmoil after the fall of Galbatorix. It follows the new regime, the second generation. The Legacy of an Inheritance that shook the world to its roots. Rate T for violence, may change. Some NasuadaxMurtagh and AryaxEragon. Reviews are extremely welcome.
1. Prologue

The wind ran softly through the grass outside their window in a flurry of autumn golds and spring greens. A woman with a halo of red hair held in her arms a swaddled bundle that, mercifully, was asleep. A man, presumably her husband, stood over her and watched the newborn. The woman was humming a soothing lullaby, gently pushing back her new daughter's fine hair.

"What do you think we should call her?" Katrina asked.

Roran didn't respond. He just continued to stare with adoration at his child. His wife was accustomed to this and she waited patiently for his thoughts to thin. It took his a long time to reply, and when he did his voice was scratchy and soft, so as not to wake the slumbering child.

"I'm not sure."

"Maybe we could name her after your mother," Katrina whispered.

Roran shook his head "I don't think it fits her, she doesn't remind me of her..." he trailed off.

Katrina took her gaze away from the newborn and looked at her husband.

"She looks like Eragon." He murmured.

It was in the line of her brow and the curve of her eyes. He was there. Subtly, slightly, barely, he remained there.

"You want to call her Eragon?" Katrina questioned. She didn't sound angry, just slightly confused. Roran rarely mentioned Eragon. He was a painful memory, like an open sore in Roran's heart. Roran's dreams were plagued by him. The dreams were always sweet...that is until he woke up.

Roran once again fell silent. His eyes were off in some distant land, a place where Eragon sat at their dinner table and knew the names of his kin.

"Tarmunora." Roran said inaudibly.

"Hm?" Katrina said, tucking the blanket snuggly around the small sleeping figure.

"We'll call her Tarmunora. Eragon told me a story once a long time ago, an elvish story I think, about a girl called Tarmunora."

Katrina smiled "Tarmunora, I like it." She handed the newly christened child to Roran.

He carried her to the window just as he had done with his son before. The window was a large square cut into the castle's stone wall. Graceful curling iron vines decorated the window panes which were pushed out to embraced the dawning blue sky. A small village, similar to the one ravaged years earlier stood in the distance shrouded by a thin blanket of mist. The mist rose to the sun which was just creeping above the horizon.

Golden rays swept over the land of Roran Stronghammer and as the first streaks of spring touched the forehead of his daughter he felt a feeling of joy. Aches of his heart rose on the wings of sunshine and he smiled down on his daughter, promising to teach her of her uncle: Eragon Shadeslayer, killer of the Dark King, Rider of Saphira Bjartskular, and the First of the New Riders.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello my imaginary readers. I hope you enjoyed the ridiculously short prologue previously submitted before this chapter. I do welcome/beg for reviews. I love input of all kinds as I badly need it. Please tell me about any mistakes and I will try to correct it as soon as possible. As it turns out some how several paragraphs didn't make it into the original version of the chapter despite the fact it had already been written. Lost in translation I suppose. This is the full version of the chapter, sorry for the inconvenience! Okay, back to the story.**

A atmosphere of excitement hovered over Stronghammer Hold. In the flurry of hands and fabric it was easy for a young girl to disappear.

Tara crept through the halls of her home, cautious even inside her own walls. Tara was hard to miss. She had a wild curling riot of gold hair on a background of pale skin. The most interesting thing about this strange member of the Stronghammers was her eyes. Her mother called them storm gray but to Tara they seemed like silver. It seemed odd that while the rest of her family had deep earth-brown eyes she did not.  
Tara pulled the hood of her black cloak down to hide her face. She slunk around the corner, her leather boots making no sound on the cold stone floor.

"Tara!" Her mother's voice echoed down the corridor "Tara, we need you for fittings!"

The horror of an entire day stuffed in the Hold was sentenced to her in just six panic inducing words. Tara went into overdrive she sprinted across the smooth floor. Her short white dress swished around her knees as she willed her legs forward, skidding around the corner and reached for the heavy oaken door that was her savior from some hellish sewing nightmare.

Tara exploded out the door into the chill morning air, free at last.

From the shadow of the Hold a hand grabbed her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Going somewhere?" Garrow said giving her a wolfish grin.

Tara threw up her hands in exasperation "If you keep doing that I won't go hunting with you, you know. I don't have to put up with this sort of abuse."

"Abuse?" Garrow raised his eyebrows "You practically begged _me _to take _you_ hunting. I could leave you behind if I wanted."

"And risk having me rat you out Madame Bride and her doting crew? I think not." Tara slung her bow over her shoulder and buckled her hunting pack in place.

Garrow shuddered as he threw her a quiver "The sooner she gets married the better, less shrieking."

"For you maybe" Tara growled "As soon as Ismira gets married they're going to want to have me spirited away by some idiot. They're already pestering me with new bachelors."

"Look at the bright side," Garrow grinned as they set off into the copse of trees North of the Hold.

"What bright side?" Tara grumbled.

"Only a really stupid idiot would marry you."

Tara glared her older brother and whacked him in the arm with her dark cherry wood bow. She hit him in the spot she knew he had taken a hard punch while wrestling in town, another activity her mother knew nothing about.

"You'll pay for that." She said grimly.

"I have a feeling I already have." Garrow winced.

This banter was usual between the junior members of the Stronghammer family. Although there were two years between Garrow and Tara they were closer to each other than they were to their older sister. In fact, they often bonded over their criticism Ismira's antics. Garrow in many senses was Tara's guardian angel.

Garrow was tall, lean, handsome, and devilish in every way. Every source of mayhem in the Hold sprouted from him. Cakes would go missing out of the kitchen, curtains would be stained, tapestries strung through the hallways. One of the earliest memories Tara had of Garrow was when all the candles went missing in the Hold.  
Katrina rushed into town and bought five scores of candles only to find when she returned that Ismira had opened Garrow's closet and had been buried underneath the resulting avalanche of candlesticks.

Garrow was a troublemaker. He went drinking in town every week or so and often got into brawls with the locals. He was infamous for his way with women. If Garrow walked past a chattering market all the girls would stop mid-sentence and swoon.

Despite his rather comical personality Garrow was still a man of honour. Tara often wondered if it was passed down from father to son. Garrow was as different from his father as water is to fire, but they both abided by the strict code of conduct that Palancar Valley upholds. Tara never saw that serious, down to earth side of her brother except maybe, when they went hunting.

Hidden among the underbrush of the cool, misty forest in the shadow of the Spine they found a safe haven. Tara came alive in the forest. The smells and sounds of the sleeping forest exhilarated her like nothing else. Together Tara and Garrow stalked side by side through the dark shadowy branches of their childhood refuge. Tara and Garrow had been disappearing into the woods ever since they discovered the world outside the sheltered walls of the Hold. Normally Garrow would be allowed to venture into the canopy of the Spine, but today was the day of Ismira's wedding, so any free time outside the Hold was a precious commodity. Tara, however, wasn't supposed to venture outside the castle with out an adult chaperone. This was a rule she had blatantly ignored her entire life, only pausing on her way to the woods to weave an elaborate lie for her mother so Tara wouldn't come back to Hold to find her mother fretting and ringing dishcloths harshly, a habit she only indulged in when worrying the 'horrible' fate of her missing child.

Garrow and Tara emerged from the far stretch of foliage carrying two rabbits and one small stag. Tara searched the edges of the tree lines for any useful herbs for the kitchen or infirmary while Garrow deftly skinned the two rabbits with a long hunting knife.

"What do you think these will fetch back in town?" Garrow said holding the carcasses up by their feet.

Tara plucked the catch out of his fingers "We're not selling them in town, remember lover boy?"

Garrow's grin slipped away "You need to stop calling me that, mom and dad are sure to find out."

"What," Tara laughed, dancing away from her brother as he vainly tried to retake the rabbits "that you're going after the blacksmith's daughter? The whole town knows."

Garrow made a grab for Tara and she slipped away, taking off in a run down the hill, Garrow scrambling after her.

It can be said that siblings bring out the children in each other. Garrow was not yet twenty and Tara was no more than sixteen years of age and often the two could be found in hysterics over the most childish things. Their mother and father watched them with concern. Roran looked at his children and wondered why they were still like children. He could only guess that this was normal and the war had forced him to grow up faster than the average child. Katrina loved all of her children with undying adoration and was in agony that they would eventually leave her, but she also despaired that they might never be married. Standing alone in that large stone window that Roran had stood in sixteen years ago was Katrina. As Katrina watched her children disappear into the smoke and buzz of people in town she worried. She knew more than she let on. Katrina had know for years about her children's escapades to the forest in the shadow of the mountains. She heard about fights her son had been in and girls he had courted. She watched as her daughter shamed every single archer in Carvahall with her skill. Even as the two disappeared in Elaine's little cottage she worried. She worried for the future to come.


	3. Chapter 2

**So, I thought that because this chapter was stupidly short I would add on another stupidly short piece with it and actually make it a decent size. Sorry for changing the chapters all the time. I'm setting myself a standard that each chapter must be at least 1,000 words.  
**

High above the world below a crystalline dragon flew. It was a creature seemingly separate from the colourful world below. Dazzling bright cleansing white was all that could be found. A flat unmoving mass of marble cloud was the floor of this creature's den and the blue ceiling had only one brilliant white light. Here in the world of pristine light a spot of colour could be seen. A rider strapped to a worn leather saddle braced herself against the untainted gale. She was covered head to toe in thick woolen clothes. The only thing open to the biting wind was a small strip on her face which allowed her to see. The rider had piercing blue eyes, so light they seemed to barely have a blue tint, like fresh fallen snow in the shade of a mountain. Her thin eyebrows drew together in a frown. In another circumstance the rider and dragon would be back in the Breoal abr Istalri, but these were strange circumstances indeed.

The dragon and his rider had been flying for two days straight and both were on the verge of collapse. The weak spell that supplied them with fresh air stole its energy from the vast forest of trees below and still the white dragon's wings trembled with fatigue.

Yet she could feel it with her mind. A small blinding light inside her saddle bags. Something as new and clean as fresh morning dew. Something bright and unsullied by the world.

Something unborn.

The rider narrowed her eyes as a shield from the driving gale and her dragon beat his wings with laboured breath. The sped onwards to the small opening of sky ahead of them.

Time was running out, faster than they knew.

Far below the world of sky and clouds the warm, cozy smell of Elaine's house welcomed Tara and Garrow in. A pot simmered in the small kitchen and Elaine waved at them from the scuffed wooden table.

Elaine was a small thin woman with graying hair and beyond all doubt's the kindest person Tara had ever or would ever meet in her life. Elaine lived in a small cottage with her daughter Hope. Her sons, both with wives and families, visited often and brought her supplies. Elaine did little for income but her sons were both extremely wealthy due to the need of blacksmiths in rebuilding Carvahall. Her husband, Horst, had died a few years ago but Elaine still did her best to remain cheerful.

Elaine smiled kindly at Garrow who was looking uncomfortable and out of place in the homey atmosphere of the house.

"Hope is out in the garden gathering the flowers, would you be a dear and help her? My bones are aching this morning."

Garrow nodded quickly and disappeared through the back door. Tara wasn't sure but she thought she saw a faint look of relief on his face.

Elaine chuckled as she sipped her morning tea "Head over heels, isn't he?"

Tara smiled "Very much so, I think she finally might be the one."

"Reminds me of your father and mother" Elaine said with a faraway voice "Always sneaking around. Eragon used to give them messages, you know."

Tara looked up with surprise. It was one thing to know her uncle was the most famous person in all of Alagaesia, but it was different to think of him carrying love letters between her parents.

Elaine smiled a small smile and her eyes were lost in a different time, a different Carvahall.

Hope emerged through the wicker door in the bakc of the house. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun. Her hair was so long that the loose strands touched the basket she held in her arms, overflowing with flowers. She beamed at Tara.

"I've got those flowers you'd asked for." She counted each flowers off on her fingers "Pond lilies, daisies, orchids, roses, magnolias...oh and _look!_" She held up a

bundleof dark blue, deep throated lilies triumphantly"I even found a patch of wild loivissas! It's like they grew just for the weddin'!"

Tara thanked Hope as she took the basket from her. Hope seemed just bursting at the seams with excitement. Hope was the joy of Carvahall, always cheerful and willing to lend a smile. She and Ismira were childhood friends, something Tara found highly ironic since Ismira was Hope's polar opposite.

Elaine appeared to reawaken from her deep thoughts "Well you two best be off, poor Katrina's probably worried sick."

Tara nodded sheepishly and was half-way down the stone walkway in the front before she realized her brother was not with her. She wheeled around to see Garrow clumsily talked to Hope.

"I thought perhaps...maybe you would...I mean you don't have to..." Garrow was turning redder by the second.

Hope looked slightly perplexed as Garrow struggled to speak. Elaine was trying her best to keep from laughing.

"What he means is," Tara said popped her head in the door "We'd be delighted if you came to Ismira's wedding. Baldor and Albriech's families too."

Hope's eyes lit up "Of course!"

Garrow and Tara trudged down the walkway with Hope waving at them through the window. Tara smirked.

"Shut it." Garrow hissed.

"Did I say anything?" Tara said innocently.

"You were thinking it you witch."

"I may be a witch," Tara said skipping ahead "but _you_, dear brother, are a Hopeless idiot."

"Even I have to say that was in bad taste." Garrow said with a grimace.

"Whatever you say, _loverboy._"


	4. Chapter 3

**Before hand I would like to apologize for the wait. I've been extremely busy and everything I seem to write get scrapped. This is actually the first story I've ever written in 3rd person and I'm finding it hard to adjust. EXTREMELY hard to adjust in fact. I've been trying for over a week to write but I just can't, so I say with defeat: I'm switching to first person POV. I write better that way. When I get a chance I will go back and rewrite the previous chapters with this POV. I'm sorry I've failed ;_; I hope you love the story all the same and find Tara still somewhat amusing. My style is just to polar opposite of Paolini's and I can't do it. I can't write omniscient. *headdesk* Wish I could, but I can't. I just. CAN'T.  
**

**The 'I' in this chapter is Tara but that may change with coming chapters. **

**I would like to thank all the people that favourited my story and follow it. It was the reminder that someone actually cares if this gets updated that pushed me to write faster and better. Kk, I'm going to shut up now.  
**

I sat contentedly in the sill of the window that shed the late afternoon sun on the bustling sea of blue-clad servants that crowded the dining hall.

Upon arriving at Stronghammer Hold I had been accosted by the swarm of townswomen desperate for the details of Ismira's ceremony. I had been swept away on the tide of their nagging and watched my brother grin smugly as I was carried away.

I had finally just escaped them and made a mental note to unbuckle Snowfire's saddle just before Garrow set off to Therinsford for another boxing match or, better yet, stuff all of his leggings up the chimney when the head servant wasn't looking.

I laughed quietly at my mother who was being tossed about in the sea of moving bodies. She stuck out like a white rabbit hiding in the fall's orange downfall; a single whitecapped wave among a troubled ocean.

The Hold's colours were blue and white to honour Eragon. Ismira, detesting blue, had chosen a white wedding gown. It was made by my mother with the help of the servants and townswomen who were all delighted to be able to sew a seam on the wedding dress for the Earl of Palancar Valley's daughter. I found it disgusting how they doted on my red-haired sister. Even worse was that Ismira seemed to thrive off the boundless attention.

My mother bustled this way and that in her white and blue gown. Her hair was down up in a graceful swirl and was topped with a bright crystal diadem.

"Flowers over there...Where are the musicians? Has the head cook finished frosting the cake? Hilda," my mother said grabbing the head servant's arm "do you know where Roran and Garrow have gone? They need to be outside soon and properly dressed to receive the guests."

Hilda was a bony, thin woman with a stern expression on her face that rarely wavered. She was crisp, proper, and very neat. Nothing happened in the Hold without her knowing about it. She also had a certain hatred of Garrow who, since he was born, had found much joy in making her life a living hell on earth. Her gray hair was pulled up in a tight uniform bun. She barely tolerated Ismira and generally ignored me, however she was exceedingly kind to my mother. Hilda patted Katrina's hand reassuringly.

"The musicians aren't due to arrive until sundown and the cook just finished the bride's cake. As for the Earl he is upstairs talking with Sir Idek and his father. Though I haven't seen Master Garrow for some time you needn't worry because I shall personally make sure he is dressed and presentable before the sun touches the tops of the trees."

Mother looked relieved and thanked Hilda, who marched off with an evil glint in her eye. I almost felt sorry for my brother. Almost.

I looked out the window and saw the wedding pavilion being set up. I was surprised by the cold ache I felt in my stomach. Ismira and I had never been close, but all the same she was a familiar, albeit shrill, red constant in the Hold. So little changed in Carvahall Ismira's wedding seemed like a giant explosion of colour among the dull fields of yellow and brown, like the last sparks in the coals of a fire before it died out into the smoky black night.

This was the end of my childhood. I knew it had been coming, creeping up on my unsuspecting figure. Slow death. That's what I likened it to. After Ismira was gone from the Hold and Garrow smitten with Hope next was me.

I wasn't going to accept it though. I was tired of marriage plans and 'lovely' bachelors who all turned out to have little interest in a girl who still ran about the forest and could shoot circles around them in archery.

I had a plan.

"Tara?" my mother said frantically, taking me by surprise "I thought _you_ at least were dressed and down in the courtyard to greet visitors!"

She pulled me from my cozy niche in the window and and rushed me down the labyrinth of halls deeper into the Hold. Several turns later and the with the jangle of a key I was pulled into a large octagonal room, one of the four towers I guessed. Huge windows of thin glass reflected the late day sun all over the room in fragmented crystals. My mother pulled something out of a huge oaken wardrobe, I didn't really look. Probably another second hand dress to make sure I didn't 'outshine' my sister.

The dark wood of the wardrobe was carved with the emblem of the Hold: a hammer on a backdrop of flames. The flames were etched across the entire front of the cabinet doors, even spilling over the sides and clawing away at the dark side panels.

I stared out the window, lost in fantasy much more exciting than my sister's pre-wedding panic; much happier than watching my freedom slip farther and farther away. I felt my mother slip the gown through my limp body and she sighed.

"You were always daydreaming, even when you were little. I remember you and Garrow would play soldier. You were never like Ismira," Katrina said wistfully.

I had heard that statement from many different people over my life, but it still stung to hear it from my own mother. It accompanied the townswomen's haughty glare and servants downcast eyes. Garrow had even told me that, but his was the only time it was meant as a compliment. Now it was paired with a familiar sight for me, my mother's small almost pitying smile and the feel her gentle hands brushing my hair.

"You had more to you, more than I've ever had." Katrina murmured "There are days when I wonder if you'll be happy here, to live the life I have."

I turned to face my mother and she gave her a small smile. This wasn't the usual way she continued.

"You aren't like me or your father. You wouldn't be content to stay in Palancar Valley would you?"

I allowed myself to foolishly hope. I felt something expand in my chest, so light i seemed to weight nothing. She _must_ have understood. She must have.

"Tara," Katrina said softly "I think I've found something to make everyone happy."

Happy was not the word for what I was feeling right now. _E__veryone _happy? No more marriage plans? A real life? To get out of this stupid farming town? I was feather on a breeze headed towards a distant land. My chest felt tight, like it was about it explode with all the pent up feelings.

"You'll let me go study abroad?" I asked, gripping my mother's hands so tightly my knuckles shone white "To Ellesmera and the Beors? To see Ure'bean and Aberon?"

"No," she said sounding with a ring of hope in her voice "But you know the Lord of Teirm, Histar? Well, he has two sons, Valeer and Belon, and he wishes his eldest to be married to you!"

All the hope that had been building in my chest crashed down. It felt like the very walls of the Hold were falling around me. So close.

I knew it sounded to good to be true.

"You could live in Teirm and come and see us. You could get out of Palancar Valley and see the ocean! I've also heard that Valeer is quite dashing and is very scholarly. He is set to inherit his father's trading company." She continued "He has also asked for a very small dowry and his father and your father are very good trading partners."

I nodded numbly. It was better than a potato farmer, but less than I hoped for. A political marriage. Great.

"There," my mother said with a flourish of her hand "my beautiful daughter."

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt a cold hand clench my stomach.

I was in Mother's wedding dress. The train had been removed and the sky blue fabric had faded to a pearly light ocean blue but I recognized it all the same.

My mother had braided back some of my blonde hair to keep it from fluttering in my face as it had when I walked the corridors of the Hold and the leafy tunnels of the Spine. She had even fitted a twisting circlet of silver on my head that sparkled in the dying light. I felt the the rough texture of the lace that clung to my small waist and stared.

I_ was_ beautiful, just not in the way most would think. I didn't look older than my age nor did I look like Ismira did in her white gown. I seemed like a creature from another world swathed in silver and lace. My hair seemed to glow and every strand turned the purest honey gold. My grey eyes shone and looked not dull or flat but like dancing silver stars. When I moved my fingers the tiny silver bracelets and rings flickered and cast diamonds of light all over the ceiling.

I heard a loud thump that made the floor shake. I exchanged a glance with my mother who looked concerned.

"Don't worry," I smiled "I'm sure it's just-"

The door went flying open and Hilda, holding Garrow in a headlock, appeared in the doorway. She had already hauled him into the room and locked the door before she realized my mother and I were there. She released Garrow, not because my mother would disapprove of her actions, but because the door was already locked and Garrow was struggling.

Garrow rubbed his neck with a murderous scowl on his face and muttered something under his breath.

Something that rhymed with 'bag'.

My mother took Garrow and thanked Hilda who folded her arms sternly.

"Wait 'til I tell the boys in town," I smirked.

"You wouldn't da-" he stopped midsentence as his gaze met mine.

Garrow's eyes widened and from across the room I could see his dark brown iris stare unbelieveably at her.

"I don't think they'll want to hear about me if you're dressed like that."

Surprise stole my remark from my lips.

My brother just called me pretty. Garrow, the brother I race with, who matches me shot for shot hunting, who says I'm nothing like Ismira, just called me pretty.

I didn't have time to formulate a clever response before Hilda ushered me out of the room and down the spiral staircase to the courtyard. Just as we approached the iron bolted door that led outside she stopped me.

I didn't dare make a break for the door, I just watched her stern face as she paused. I had come to fear that stern face. When my father was too busy to look after us, which seems like always, and my mother was taking care of the Hold and Ismira Hilda alone was the shadow in the hallway that made me cling to Garrow's sleeve. Her face didn't look as hard, the lines softened with an emotion I never thought I would see on my childhood villain's face.

"You know," she said with the kindest voice I've ever heard her use "in that you look at bit like..." she trailed off and smiled.

I waited for her to finish. I looked like Ismira? My mother? My _father_? A three week old dead crow?

"You look like yourself."

I felt her hands push me out into the day and the door's heavy thunk as it closed.

I felt like she had just said goodbye.


	5. Author's Confession

**Alright.  
**

**I've admitted it.  
**

**I haven't worked on this story in forever because it's so challenging.  
**

**And I'm lazy.  
**

**And I get distracted by other updating fandoms.  
**

**But I refuse to give up on it.  
**

**Instead I'm taking a break.  
**

**I know I promised more updates but with my homework load that just isn't going to happen.  
**

**I apologize PROFUSELY to everyone.  
**

**I really wanted to be a good, consistent writer, but I can't handle the work.  
**

**It takes me an average of six and a half hours to make one chapter, edited and everything.  
**

**This fanfiction will NOT be abandoned.  
**

**NEVER abandoned. I've already put so much time into this and I love Tara to death. X3  
**

**I will probably not update it until summer comes next year after school.  
**

**However, most of this is because of writer's block and lack of inspiration.  
**

**If someone has suggestions for music or short fanfictions to help get me back in the groove of the Inheritance fandom I will happily accept. If you have any suggestions or ideas to do with the story I will still be checking reviews and PM's and would be EXCEEDINGLY grateful.  
**

**I'm leaving the chapters up for now but know that eventually they might come down and be replaced if I change the plot.  
**

**I hope you are all doing well and have authors that update more than me. 3  
**

**~theshutintwodoorsdown  
**


End file.
